#>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// snicket‚ k. └ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪɴᴅ ʜᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴛʜᴏᴜꜱᴀɴᴅ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ┐

[spectralhearts-blog]

@tallglassofjustice

Perhaps the reason Kit Snicket did not share her oldest brother’s obsession for definitions stemmed from the difference in their literary tastes, as poetry played with words to evoke emotion and speculative fiction worked to clearly communicate. For example, her own definition for death had become increasingly malleable since Lemony's seeming resurrection in the back of their brother's taxi and her more recent literal - and still as of yet inexplicable - one. While her older brother might grouse on for hours about the application of permanence to an clear definition, Kit had come to the following understanding: there was no defined phrase for the end of life itself that could sum up all of its conflictions. Death may be righteous, or not. Death may be intentional, or not. Death may be at the end of a long life, or cut right through the middle like a taxi in the heat of traffic. Though her brother’s own taxi followed to the letter the various traffic safety laws before it had passed into her own possession, his own death came for him. Too early, too malicious, too unrighteous, and entirely too far from her.

That being said, Kit could never associate the yellow-decked cab so dourly with the end of Jacques’ life, no matter the vehicle that had transported him to the Village of Fowl Devotees. Jacques had loved his taxi, enough to even skip out on the few evenings of entertainment the siblings could muster together during the height of V. F. D.’s noble activities - so Kit loved them too. This city was littered with them, and each time she spotted one they carried what little left of Jacques Snicket there remained in this alien world. 

So maybe that was the reason she stalled this night beside a far neighborhood’s auto-mechanical shop, watching a tuft of hair similar in color to her own continuously disappear behind the taxi’s hood. Every so often, a hand would fumble out towards the other beside them, seeking until their companion would laugh and hand over whichever tool they required. She watched as their companion suddenly turned their head at some summons from deeper within the shop and followed without a goodbye, and the figure behind the hood struck out another seeking hand - this time without a partner to answer. The occasional taxi-driver and ever-Volunteer glanced around before striding up beside them, taking another surreptitious glance into the hood to guess at which tool they were requesting.

Kit shuffled to lean up against the mobile shelf beside them, corner of her lips quirking as she assessed and subsequently rifled through the tools until she uncovered the correct socket wrench fitting. She held it out to them, and got her first clear look at the figure working on the taxi. His taxi. “He...” Her fingers fumbled as her eyes widened and her stomach sank, the fitting falling to a clatter below them and words failing before they could tumble out of her lips. 

It would be the first time in this city that the phrase ghosts of the past would be apt.

#tallglassofjustice #>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// snicket‚ k. └ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪɴᴅ ʜᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴛʜᴏᴜꜱᴀɴᴅ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ┐ #>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// snicket‚ k. // interactions #death mention tw #/ just One Time i would like to chill when im trying out a starter for a new character for the first time #/ time to sob @ twinnies

[spectralhearts-blog]

@littlethingbeatrice

She was going to be alone with her daughter.

Altogether, a simple statement, if passive in voice though not intention. Kit did need to ascertain Beatrice's experience with certain skills - she wasn't ignorant to reality, she knew that sooner-or-later Beatrice was bound to have a run-in with any number of unsavoury individuals, and she'd much rather her daughter know how to protect herself than be kept in happy ignorance of the world's ills. That ignorance had... been an ideal. Once. But reality had saw fit to catch up with them instead, and Kit preferred rigorous training in evasion to disallow it that same chance again.

Still, simple statements commonly covered all kinds of buried complications underneath, like Your eagles have escaped and been adopted by new owners and I love you, but. Kit was going to be alone with Beatrice, but it would be for the first time since she'd been born. That kind of solitary experience seemed easy when her daughter was more concept than person, a fluttering under her abdomen and comforting kick whenever she'd been at her most lonesome, but now? Beatrice, her own fully-fledged person - a daughter with her own past and expectations for how her mother should be, and how Kit actually was?

Terrifying. Her pulse throbbed under her neck, and Kit lifted one hand to rub anxiously at it, soothe it into submission as deftly as she tugged shut the zipper to her duffel. She was - Kit raised from her stoop, took a final inventory of the day's items with unseeing eyes - she would just have to live up to Beatrice's expectations, simple as that. Fine, easy, no different than any other goal she'd set for herself in the past, and Kit quite pointedly did not fail. Motherhood was... what, really?

Her thoughts stoppered at the genuine confusion blocking her thoughts. She knew she should have read the parenting books Dewey'd collected. Huffing out a sigh, Kit planted her hands on her hips and pivoted back to face her apartment's stairs, calling up a, "Ready?" and throwing all stoppered, fumbling thoughts away. Work on your feet, Snicket. "We'll have to be leaving soon, the next train runs in fifteen minutes."

#littlethingbeatrice #>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// snicket‚ k. └ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪɴᴅ ʜᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴛʜᴏᴜꜱᴀɴᴅ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ┐ #>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// snicket‚ k. // interactions #/ hope this is okay!

[spectralhearts-blog]

@lxst-children | snicket, l.

L is for libraries, which are safe places for learning. Cresting the final flight and turning onto the landing, Kit all but seethed the trusted mnemonic under her breath. It was an old habit, an old trick of training from a patient chaperone who tried to make the best out of an apprentice who preferred to act before thinking became an undesired obstacle in her way. She had been trying it since her finger, tracing reluctantly ( and with no small amount of hopeful disbelief ) along the shelves of the children's section, stuttered and stalled at Snicket-comma-L. 

Kit couldn't say she was experiencing much success. ( L is for little brothers, who could be more than a little exasperating. ) The straps of her satchel, holding more children's books than she'd carried with her since her short stint at Prufrock Preparatory, slipped off her shoulder, and she stopped just to growl that little bit louder and forcefully readjust them back into place. She moved down the hall without much care for quiet as she scanned for his door. L is for Lemony, who - for the first time since they were adolescents, perhaps, or even children - was possibly the last person she wanted to see. Under the curdling frustration still laid a sharp pang of watching her sibling turn to her with unknowing eyes. Not so terrible as thinking him dead for most of their adulthood, but a close thing. 

Ah, there he was. Reshouldering her bag once again, Kit rapped sharply on his door, calling out, “Lem — Mr. Snicket — ” She stymied, already caught between sibling and stranger. “ ...I’d like to speak with you for a moment. Would you please come to the door?” 

A pause, and then, with no small measure of exasperation - as though she’d suddenly remembered who she was talking to - “So help me L., if you climb out your window I will spread a layer of thumbtacks so thoroughly under its sill that the next time you’re met with someone outside your door who actually means you harm you will find your escape definitively more difficult.”

#lxst-children #>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// snicket‚ k. └ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪɴᴅ ʜᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴛʜᴏᴜꜱᴀɴᴅ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ┐ #>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// snicket‚ k. // interactions

[spectralhearts-blog]

THE NIGHT HAS A THOUSAND EYES ; a selection of soundtracks for k. s.

organized chronologically (within) & thematically (in general)

for v.f.d. —

library magic - the head and the heart can’t stay healthy in the cloud of eyes / listening to my every move, just trying to survive / self-imposed adventure that selfishness drives / i can barely keep my head above the blue, trying to keep it off me and you... the easier to begin and hard to end / i’m just glad to go through it all with you as friends

any way the wind blows - anais mitchell no use use talking of a past that's past / set out walking and we don't look back / where we're going there ain't no one knows

youth - daughter and if you’re still bleeding, you’re the lucky ones / ‘cause most of our feelings, they are dead and they are gone

earth - sleeping at last i dig ‘til my shovel tells a secret, swear to the earth that i will keep it / brush off the dirt, and let my change of heart occur... meanwhile, my family’s taking shelter / the sparks send the fire down the wire / a countdown begins until the dynamite gives in / the echo, as wide as the equator / travels through a world of built-up anger - too late to pull itself together now

the stranger at my door - brandi carlile we exorcise the demons of the things we used to know / the gnashing of their teeth becomes the remnants of our homes / we think we’re moving on from materials we long / to forget we ever sold our souls to own... but nothing scares me more / than the stranger at my door who i failed / to give shelter, time, and worth

everybody knows - sigrid everybody knows that it’s coming apart / take one last look at this sacred heart before it blows

closing in - ruelle i used to see in color; now it’s just a wave of gray / i feel it pull me under, drowning in the disarray

for dewey —

all i’ve ever known - original cast of hadestown all i’ve ever known is how to hold my own / but now i wanna hold you too / you take me in your arms, and suddenly there’s sunlight all around me / everything bright and warm and shining like it never did before / and for a moment i forget / just how dark and cold it gets

salvation - gabrielle aplin you are the avalanche one world away / my make-believing while i’m wide awake / just a trick of light to bring me back around again... i never meant to fall for you, but i was buried underneath / and all that i could see was white

chasing cars - the wind and the wave i don’t quite know how to say how i feel / those three words are said too much, they’re not enough... forget what we’re told / before we get too old / show me a garden that’s bursting into life

flood - the goo goo dolls (ft. sydney sierota) i wanna see what you see in me and never let you down... i had a dream you were next to me, i woke up calling your name / can you still feel my love? / i wanna be something you can touch; you’re moving fast, but i’m catching up / no, don’t slow down, my love

21 days - scott helman if a cardboard castle is all we have love, we could make it sweet / i wanna live with you in a cardboard castle / i know it won’t last but neither will we

this love - taylor swift clear blue water, hide tide came and brought you in... skies grew darker, currents swept you out again / and you were just gone and gone, gone and gone... been losing grip on sinking ships, you showed up just in time

running after you - matthew mole we’ll come back home, we’ll come back home someday / but right now we are called to see a place / where you and i will change the world we know / anywhere that i’m with you is home

for beatrice —

light - sleeping at last may these words be the first to find your ears / the world is brighter than the sun now that you’re here... i’ll give you everything i have, i’ll teach you everything i know... i will soften every edge, i’ll the hold the world to its best / and i’ll do better / with every heartbeat i have left i will defend your every breath

look after you - aron wright when you get knocked down and you’ve had enough / oh, i’ll be there to dust you off / when you don’t know what you’re gonna do / i will look after you

you were born - cloud cult oh my precious, oh my love / when they come to take me i will hold you from above / i don’t know why we’re here, and i don’t know how / but i’m here with you now, i am here with you now

it’s quiet uptown - kelly clarkson there are moments that the words don’t reach / there is suffering too terrible to name / you hold your child as tight as you can, then push away the unimaginable

when i’m with you - jj heller when i see you and you’re smiling, how my heart aches / so full it is about to break... i could never count all the ways that you change me, baby

forest fire - brighton oh, i hope you know / that you’re my home / but now i’m lost, so lost... i keep imagining those flames that did rise and blackened up the sky

safe inside - james arthur ‘cause i worry about you the whole night / don’t repeat my mistakes / i won’t sleep until you’re safe inside... is it time to let go now you’re older

for n.y.c. —

where do we go from here? - ruelle there’s no place to call our own, like a drifting haze we roam / where do we go from here? where do we go from here?

leave the light on - overcoats i may break down if i let you look at me / now you see me, now you don’t / going, going fast as i can... what if i don’t make it home? / you’re not there, and the light’s not on

i’ll be good - jaymes young for all the innocent things that i doubt / for all the bruises i’ve caused, and the tears / for all the things i’ve done all these years / for all the sparks that i stomped out / for all the perfect things i doubt / i’ll be good, i’ll be good / and i’ll love the world like i should

high hopes - kodaline when it all comes to an end, but the world keeps spinning around / and in my dreams i meet the ghosts of all the people who’ve come and gone / memories, they seem to show up so quick but they leave you far too soon / naïve, i was just staring at the barrel of a gun

in our bedroom after the war - stars listen, the birds sing / listen, the bells ring / all the living are dead, and the dead are living / the war is over and we are beginning... we won, or we think we did / when you went away, you were just a kid / and if you lost it all, and you lost it / well, we’ll still be there when your war is over

resolution - matt corby you said don’t lie so i made the truth / seemed like a lie to even you / control your fear, it’s clear / that you do not know where you’re going to... turn around, put it down and see / that this is really the place to be / i’m not you, nor you me / but we’re both moving steady

we don’t eat - james vincent mcmorrow there’s nothing to mention, and nothing has changed / still, i’d rather be working at something than praying for the rain / so i wander on until someone else is saved... have i been good to you at all? oh, i’m so tired of playing these games / we’d just be running down the same old lines, the same old stories / of breathless trains and worn-down glories / houses burning, worlds that turn on their own

for o. —

meadows - wild child low tide but rising fast, we’ll all die so nothing lasts / all i know is that you make me laugh babe / so i’ll go down with you

the night we met - lord huron take me back to the night we met / and then i can tell myself what the hell i’m supposed to do / and then i can tell myself not to ride along with you / i had all and then most of you, some and now none of you... i don’t know what i’m supposed to do / haunted by the ghost of you

say something - alex & sierra it was over my head; i know nothing at all / i will stumble and fall / i’m still learning to love, just starting to crawl / say something, i’m giving up on you / i’m sorry that i couldn’t get to you

silhouettes - of monsters and men it’s hard letting go / i’m finally at peace, but it feels wrong... there’s nothing that i’d take back / but it’s hard to say there’s nothing i regret

no fight left - jj heller there is no fight left on the inside / but maybe that’s where i should be / i’ve given up trying, i’m giving it all to you

thistle & weeds - mumford & sons i begged you to hear me, there’s more than flesh and bones / let the dead bury their dead, they will come out in droves / but take the spade from my hands and fill in the holes you’ve made... plant your hope with good seeds, don’t cover yourself with thistle and weeds

you’re somebody else - flora cash well, you look like yourself but you’re somebody else / only it ain’t on the surface / well, you talk like yourself - no, i hear someone else, though / now you’re making me nervous

#>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// snicket‚ k. └ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪɴᴅ ʜᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴛʜᴏᴜꜱᴀɴᴅ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ┐ #>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// snicket‚ k. // development #/ yeets self into activity by publishing the fruits of hyperfixation #/ yes there are 5 separate lists yes they were wheedled down grudgingly from a Longer Assortment #/ forever frustrated that i haven't been able to amalgamate anything for snicket siblings #/ too many Nice Sibling songs where's the content for when ur kind of a shit sibling

[spectralhearts-blog]

Spotted at Grand Central, bags in hand, RACHEL WEISZ. No, that’s a mistake. It’s KIT SNICKET, they are a CANON CHARACTER and come from A SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE EVENTS. They are THIRTY-ONE and I’ve heard they are DISCERNING, as well BRASH. They happen to hold THEIR memories. Don’t believe me? See for yourself. 

welcome to new york! what is your character’s name?

kit katherine snicket ; firefighting volunteer, occasional fortune-teller and taxi driver. consumer of tea as bitter as wormwood. pretending to not have her true memories.

where / when have they been pulled from in their fandom?

the last thing kit can remember before she suddenly found herself waking in this new vexing and fallacious dwelling was medusoid mycelium crawling down her throat on an otherwise ideal island, fingers numb and falling limp as the baudelaires cradled newborn beatrice and promised that kit snicket’s daughter, though orphan she may be, would not grow up alone

— or, when i’m not just trying to stretch writin’ muscles that have gotten too used to academia, kit’s story has picked up rather unusually after her death in THE END (both episode and novel). she had died of a vile fungus, comma deadly, shortly after giving birth to her daughter whose custody she had entrusted to the baudelaire orphans. she remembers recently losing her brothers, one to death and another to his misery and exile, and her parents much less so. she remembers giving one of her last goodbyes to a wicked man whose one kind deed she can’t forgive the rest of his treachery for, but to whom she still owed a life and more. her last repayment could only be a short stanza from a long and complicated poem. she remembers her heart breaking twice, the first composed of so many crumbling increments of a once-noble organization and the second for a man first among brothers and second among an underground librarians (both literal and figurative). but most of all, she remembers beatrice baudelaire ii, the last in a long line of failings she needs to make up for.

do they have a job, and if so - what is it?

kit works at a kitschy alternative tea shop, where her position alternates depending on whether she keeps making the tea more bitter than the customer requests. on those days she gets shunted into the back, or into occasional tarot readings since the owners discovered she has some theatricality and training with it. it becomes difficult to not put on a vaguely european accent or remark upon the virtues of deciding one’s own fate whenever that’s requested, however.

what with the curse and all, how has your character’s life changed?

there were definitely some adjustments necessary - not only had kit just suddenly woken up from her definite reality of being dead (though she cannot honestly say this has been her first flirtation), but this new york was unlike one she had ever experienced. not only were technologies congruent and the entire city utterly devoid of code, but her reliable expectations of municipal aristocracies have been completely pulled out from under her. her initial attempts to contact those who might remain of her once-noble organization were quickly stoppered when she could not locate a reliable telegraph anywhere, and olive jars at local grocers lay infuriatingly unspecific.

so safe to say, kit quickly found herself a regular fish out of water, her only relevant skills those she had picked up from her own varied interests and inordinately ordinary assignments. the moment she realized something was amiss in the city, spontaneous appearances, fuzzed memories and personalities scattered in the people who passed through the tea shop, was the exact moment she felt warm comfort settling in her spine at the case of a spectacular scheme to be investigated.

kit spends most of her time at her work or freely wandering the streets of new york, occasionally under a cloak of night. in this city whose volunteer firefighters align most with the literal definition, she is trying to be the most noble member of a more distinguished volunteer fire department she can be, hitting the pavement and chatting with nearly all she comes across until she can uncover the mystery behind new york city.

is there any other information about your character that members might find helpful?

yea! so, first off before any deeper introduction to kit’s canon-wise character as it stands below — kit has maintained all her memories, and always has, but apart from the first few days in the city during which she had been running around chicken-without-a-head-style, she has adapted a disguise in which she pretends to be an ordinary kit snicket, just another new yorker. as a V.F.D. member, after all, she is equipped with the training necessary to slide into an alternate identity when a sussing out of friends and foes is needed. if she undoubtedly trusts someone, she will let them in — otherwise, she does her best to keep up her facade.

anyway! i’m going to be pulling from both book and tv canon for kit - } a noble member on the firefighting side of the schism in the V.F.D., or Volunteer Fire Department. kit is one of the snicket siblings, twin sister to jacques and one of the last surviving snickets along with her younger brother lemony. kit was shrewd and a very practical child, though as likely as either of her siblings to throw herself into trouble for a good cause. she attended Prufrock Prepatory School twice, once as a student and later as an English teacher, during which she required V.F.D. readings of all her students — a requirement that ended when the vice principal quickly fired her (continuing, however, for the two students she grabbed on the way out for their V.F.D. recruitment)

as a member of the V.F.D. herself, kit was engaged in multiple missions involving the dousing of fires both figurative and literal. she was once arrested trying to break into a museum in order to steal an artifact back to its rightful place, and once helped construct a submarine. she also masterfully constructed a chilled salad recipe that included mangoes and black beans among other items. most notable, however, was a certain mission that included poison darts, a sugar bowl, and the assassination of members of a family that might have been as noble as her now-splitting organization. whether or not kit feels any guilt for the death(s?) of olaf’s parent(s?)... well, she regrets any vile act, and this one’s particular role in the deepening schism, but this is another secret she’ll keep close to her heart.

kit didn’t have much time for relationships as she globe-trotted for the V.F.D., but at some point she did love a certain melodramatic count and shared with him an ill-kept secret of adoration for sad poetry. in the later years of the schism, her path fell in with the eldest denouement, and she and dewey began preparing for a life together.

kit loves secrets and secrecy ; it’s integral to V.F.D., and she is nothing if not a loyal Volunteer. she loves them to her own detriment - keeping them, seeking them, and squirreling them away. toward the end of the series’ events, she was starting to have to admit to herself the some of V.F.D.’s secrecy was the very thing poisoning it from the inside... but, old habits die hard, and in this city so far away from the V.F.D. it’s easy to slip back into her secret-hunting ways.

kit cares for children, but doesn’t particularly know how to interact with them. she thinks of them like miniature adults, rather than having considerations in mind for the trials of their own age group. being pregnant with beatrice was no wake-up-call, but it made her more aware of how ill-equipped she was going to be as a mother to an infant. with dewey at her side, that seemed easier -- but without him, and with medusoid mycelium crawling up her throat, she knew her baby would be better off with the baudelaires than she’d ever be with her. with a second chance at life, she does keep catching herself distraught without her daughter -- but has also decided it better not to look for her, when she believes her safe with the baudelaires.

ASOUE S3 SPOILERS; i loved almost all of the expansion netflix brought to the series, but definitely mourn some of the moral ambiguity kit lost in the transfer over. kit is caring and daring, but she is also incredibly stubborn to her own sense of being one of the smartest minds in the room and ruthless to the point of being willing to do anything to accomplish Greater Good (kudos to netflix tho for correctly pulling over that impulsive streak, nice 👌 👌 dragon-flying off a cliff while 8mos pregnant, definitely kit). i’m still not quite sure how much i want to incorporate netflix’s interpretation of the opera into kit ; she definitely had a much larger role in the death of olaf’s parents. anyway for now i’m probably going to loosely go with she being the admirer who slipped beatrice the poison dart, and may have been on-mission to distract olaf from the theft of the sugar bowl at the time, and eventually i’ll get around to expanding on that

#>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// snicket‚ k. └ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪɴᴅ ʜᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴛʜᴏᴜꜱᴀɴᴅ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ┐ #dear:intro #/ when that last question just becomes a wordvomit so i myself do not have an excuse for forgetting anything

[spectralhearts-blog]

Kit, how do you feel about New York?

Kit’s eyebrows raised; it was a blunt and unforgiving opinion. "It’s dirtier and ruder than the city I am used to," she began, and then added, " - though perhaps that has more to do with the common company I tried to keep," trying and failing to accommodate. "And everyone walks around staring into those small electronic bricks my new employer insists are mobile phones, yet completely lack the ability to dial a coded request for a black bean and mango salad." She paused, hedging, until a voice so much like her brother's nudged her into admitting, "But its museums and libraries have been well-kept, and several students have stopped by the shop already so developed into well-read, kindhearted people. So maybe it's still wound up better off than our home."

#anonymous #>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// snicket‚ k. └ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪɴᴅ ʜᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴛʜᴏᴜꜱᴀɴᴅ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ┐ #>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// snicket‚ k. // answered #/ kit doesnt know about grubhub yet

[spectralhearts-blog]

@bluesupes

Pulling to idle beside the sidewalk at the sight of a beckoning arm, Kit sank into the worn leather of the driver’s seat and felt the bundle of tension that had gathered between her shoulder blades in the weeks since the masque unravel some. Though she would never be able to maintain it as a regular occupation as Jacques did, sliding behind the wheel of a taxi cleared her head in the exact way that complicated emotional entanglements and Italian recipes did not. Everything was just so much simpler; routes were predictable ( or, when not, with immediate solution through creative use of the term “shortcut” ), destinations were finite. The greatest mystery asked of her was the identity of her passenger -- a taxi, as it was said, would pick up any who asked for one. Kit rolled down the window and made to greet him before her jaw snapped shut with an audible click. The similarities were wholly superficial, but… well, the past months’ peculiarities had her on edge, and long-dead friends suddenly ( and most inexplicably ) returned to life were hardly the furthest thing from her mind. And he really did look so much like B.

The B. who had apprenticed under her brother’s chaperone and could be expected to play pranks in elevators, that was, not the accomplished baticeer and subject of many of that same brother’s long-winded soliloquies. Kit blinked, and shook the shadow of their friend’s face out of her eyes as she smiled, polite if distanced, as she asked, “Where to?”

#bluesupes #>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// snicket‚ k. └ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪɴᴅ ʜᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴛʜᴏᴜꜱᴀɴᴅ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ┐ #>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// snicket‚ k. // interactions #hope this works!! just lmk if i should shift anything ::peace emoji::

[spectralhearts-blog]

DEAREVENT002 ; save the last dance - masque ball

it is difficult ,   when faced with a situation that you cannot control,                                                              to admit you can do nothing

#>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// snicket‚ k. └ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪɴᴅ ʜᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴛʜᴏᴜꜱᴀɴᴅ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ┐ #>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// persephone. └ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ꜱᴜɪᴛᴄᴀꜱᴇ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀᴛɪᴍᴇ ┐ #>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// vax’ildan. └ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇꜱꜱ‚ ɪ ꜱᴀʏ ꜰᴜᴄᴋ ┐ #>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// snicket‚ k. // development #>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// vax’ildan. // development #>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// persephone. // development #dearevent002 #::rubs hands together w/ great mania:: costumes coSTUMES COSTUMES

[spectralhearts-blog]

[Holds the other’s hand when they think the other won’t notice] (dewey and kit again!)

There was hardly enough room in her kitchen for one person to work in, let alone two - but somehow, with Dewey, they just always found a way to make it work. She tossed the salad at the counter and watched him with an absent-minded smile as he studiously contemplated the alfredo sauce, and they might not be unfolding a complicated instruction encoded into the misspellings of a limerick or water-skiing under a gather storm over a lake filled with ravenous leeches, but there was still nowhere else she’d rather be beside him than cramped into a too-small apartment, growing smaller with every beloved addition to their recovering family, scrounging up what they could for a quiet home-cooked dinner.

Moving around to grab for the olive oil without looking, she frowned when she felt her hand suddenly tugged to a stop without reason. The answer came with the entwining of fingers between hers, and a glance back between them to see Dewey’s hand wrapped around the curve of the bottle and around hers. Kit looked back up again to see the crinkle at the corner of his eyes, the pleased twist of his lips.

Snorting - heart-warming, her wonderful, impossible man - Kit lifted their interlocked hands above and around them, twisting and surreptitiously stepping up on her tip-toes to press a kiss to the edge of her jaw before she returned to her position at the counter.

Her grin nearly split her cheeks, and she didn’t release his hand - even when the sauce at the stove started to revolt, even when she needed her other to better mix in the mozzarella. Impossible man ; she never planned to let go again.

#hvddenpcssions #>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// snicket‚ k. └ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪɴᴅ ʜᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴛʜᴏᴜꜱᴀɴᴅ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ┐ #>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// snicket‚ k. // answered #>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// snicket‚ k. // dewey #this turned into more drabble than meme wh oops #l i sten i am just v weak for domesticity ok #they're under constant stress and awful circumstances like 99/100 times This Is The Time When They Rest

[spectralhearts-blog]

“Why would I help you? I’m in chains.” (from olaf opps)

Halfway through the motion of flipping the shop’s sign to Closed, she turned to glance back over her shoulder. The confusion written clearly in the furrow of her brows and frown lifted once she realised what he’d gotten himself into. “That’s a Chinese finger trap,” she corrected. Her frown upturned into something that… wasn’t quite a smile, but possibly hinted at one under its bemusement. “Push in with both your fingers.” It was something little more than what they kept around to keep curious children (or meddlesome Counts… though the descriptor still seemed accurate) occupied while their guardians stopped for a longer meeting over a cup of earl grey or white. Leaving him to it, Kit finished her action and turned back to O., leaning against the shop’s windows. She studied him for a moment before giving him the response to his question in the form of one of her own. “Are you still interested in finding the sugar bowl?”

#hvddenpcssions #villcnoustreachery #>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// snicket‚ k. └ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪɴᴅ ʜᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴛʜᴏᴜꜱᴀɴᴅ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ┐ #>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// snicket‚ k. // answered #/ i'm just going to assume Melodrama

[spectralhearts-blog]

thoughts on one terribly annoying little girl called carmelita spats?

“A very apt description. And I’d add truly remarkable, in every sense of word.” The sarcasm was unsubtle, but so was Kit. The V. F. D. kept all manners of thorough and interesting reports on potential Volunteers, though her own assignments as of the Baudelaire fire had been dedicated less to recruitment than to the dedicated tasks of deterring a certain unibrowed count and keeping a victoriously fungal-fighting discovery out of enemy hands. As such, what Kit knew of the previous Prufrock Prep student was limited to incidents recorded before her sixth birthday, or brief reports of her time with O. and E. transmitted via a telegraph in Mulctuary Money Management. Both were more than enough. Still — “No person, no matter how far they’ve taken the wrong track, deserves to have their home or family burnt away.”

#anonymous #>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// snicket‚ k. └ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪɴᴅ ʜᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴛʜᴏᴜꜱᴀɴᴅ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ┐ #>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// snicket‚ k. // answered

[spectralhearts-blog]

do you wish you could have saved your brother from suffering that terrible fate at olaf's hands?

Which one? The clarification goes unspoken, even as the Snicket girl considers the troubles of time passed since the one fateful night attending La Forza del Destino. Lemony had put himself out on the lam, isolating himself with his miseries as he fled the authorities and O.’s vengeance. And Jacques… Kit closed her eyes, clearing her throat and mind of the gruesome image that had accompanied her brother’s obituary in The Daily Punctilio. “Yes,” she answered, for both. Anything, for Lemony and Jacques.

#anonymous #>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// snicket‚ k. └ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪɴᴅ ʜᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴛʜᴏᴜꜱᴀɴᴅ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ┐ #>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// snicket‚ k. // answered #>> ꜰɪʟᴇ:// snicket‚ k. // snickets